


desire holds me like a knife

by hearthouses



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Aftercare, Bondage, Bottom Eddie Kaspbrak, Canon Gay Character, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Top Richie Tozier, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearthouses/pseuds/hearthouses
Summary: Eddie’s cheek was resting on his shoulder and his eyes cast down, voice low, when he said, “do you ever think about grabbing me and, uh, taking me—you know, without asking? Just because you feel like it?”“Like,” Richie started, having to swallow to loosen the tension the squeezed around his throat, “raping you? Because no, Eds, can’t say I’ve ever thought about that.”Eddie wants to try something. Richie obliges.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 25
Kudos: 414





	desire holds me like a knife

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Emily Corwin's poem _abacus_. 
> 
> _A note about the content of this fic:_ Most of the proceedings run on previously given consent. There is a little bit of discussion about set up for this particular scene, but no discussion of safe words or any sort of formalized set up. Those things are presumed and inferred, but I left out of the fic for creative reasons.

His stomach dropped when Eddie first brought it up, curled against his side in their bed, no clothes between them. Eddie’s cheek was resting on his shoulder and his eyes cast down, voice low, when he said, “do you ever think about grabbing me and, uh, taking me—you know, without asking? Just because you feel like it?” 

Eddie’s fingers drifted down over his chest, stroking through the thatch dark curling hair, pressing against Richie’s sternum as his breathing picked up, deep and quickened breaths. 

“Like,” Richie started, having to swallow to loosen the tension the squeezed around his throat, “ _ raping you _ ? Because no, Eds, can’t say I’ve ever thought about that.” 

Eddie pushed himself up, turning his head to look at Richie, a red flush burning bright across his cheeks. “That’s not exactly what I mean.” 

Now Richie tries to remember what they’ve talked about, trying to remember Eddie’s face as he said it, big brown eyes looking at him dead on, unflinching— _ you can do this _ , he thinks, rolling his shoulders back, trying to work out the trembling that starts to spread from his hands to the rest of his body,  _ it’s okay, Eddie wants this, it’s okay. _ He bites down on a laugh, choking it back. The week of buildup did shit for his nerves, despite how much he wants, his desire not much of a match for the open, gnawing pit deep in his stomach, a bone-deep fear crawling out and writhing under his skin. 

_ It’s okay if you like it _ , Richie can hear Eddie telling him, the phantom sensation of his mouth working up from his throat to his jaw.  _ It’d be nice if we both liked it. It doesn’t make you a bad person, or sick. _

That’s the punchline, what’s got Richie’s stomach knots, that he might not be repulsed at all. 

Richie finds Eddie washing the dishes before putting them in the dishwasher, low music playing from Eddie’s phone propped up on the counter that Richie can’t quite make out over the thudding of his heart; he rubs his hands on his jeans to wipe away the evidence of sweaty palms. He watches Eddie for a moment, taking in the sight of him swaying a little to the music, wearing one of Richie’s old t-shirts, too big for him in a way that makes the neckline hang low, and cover too much of the tiny red gym shorts Eddie had squeezed himself into, feet bare against the stone tile. 

It’s hot enough to wake his dick up, blood flowing from his head down south, reminding himself that this is all fake, that it’s not meant to be real. Richie thinks of the plug just under Eddie’s shorts that Richie watched him put in, fingering himself slow and lubing himself up, leaving him all prepped and ready to go—their compromise to make this happen. It generates enough nerve to move across the kitchen floor and press himself against Eddie’s back, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing his mouth to the side of his neck. 

Eddie grabs his hands with wet, soapy fingers, trying to wriggle free. “Babe,” he says, his voice a bit hitched and breathy, “not now, can’t you see I’m busy?” 

Richie sucks in a breath, then exhales slow, Eddie starting to tremble against him; he hadn’t known what Eddie was going to go with, but babe works, better than his own name. “You’re always busy,” he says, letting a whine slip into his voice as he wraps his arms tighter around Eddie’s waist, locking his body against Richie’s—no escape. “Never any time for me.”

Eddie arches back, pushing his ass against the front of Richie’s jeans, swiveling his hips, just a little, almost imperceptible except to his dick, the friction making him grow harder. Richie bites back the urge to chide him, remind him not to seem too eager, hoarding the reminders that this is what Eddie _ wants _ , despite whatever he might say or do. “Get off of me,” Eddie says, slapping at his arms, trying to push at Richie’s grip around him. “I’m trying to get shit done, go amuse yourself somewhere else.” 

“I don’t think I will,” Richie says, lowering his mouth close to Eddie’s ear, trying to roughen his tone, letting a growl rumble up from his chest. He pulls Eddie away from the sink, hefting him off his feet and carrying him back towards the island in the middle of the kitchen—it’s almost easy to forget how small Eddie is in relation to his personality, the energy the he puts out making him feel bigger and bolder, but Richie can feel it now, when he presses him forward against the counter, the memory of how easy it was to lift him still fresh. “You’ve been such a fucking cocktease all week and I’m sick of it.” 

It wasn’t a lie—Eddie had been teasing him, on purpose. Maybe he thought it would help heighten his desire or build up frustration by climbing into his lap and necking like teenagers, grinding through their clothes, then pulling back, without warning when things had gotten too heated.  _ Maybe Eddie was righ _ t, Richie thinks, pressed up behind Eddie and all he can think of doing is yanking down his shorts and sliding inside him. 

“This isn’t funny, let me go,” Eddie says, pulling on Richie’s arms now, digging his nails in, trying to step on his feet, but he can’t gain the upper-hand crowded against the counter, not enough space to wrestle himself free. “I’m not in the mood for this shit.” 

Richie fights the urge to release him by unwinding his arms, only to grab ahold of Eddie’s wrists and twisting his arms behind his back, pinning them crossed one over the other at the small of his back; he gasps out, hearing the moan Eddie can’t swallow back, the low whimper in his throat when he can’t help going a little limp. “I don’t care if you’re not in the mood, do you understand that now?” 

Richie wraps a hand around both his crossed wrists, feeling a bit lightheaded when he realizes his hand can stretch around them and still hold Eddie securely. He slides his other hand between them, pulling open his belt buckle and pulling it out his belt loops, feeling the shudder that goes through Eddie. “Now, since you can’t hold still, I’m going to have to tie you up,” he says, pressing a kiss to the base of Eddie’s neck, before pulling back to wind the leather through and around his wrists, keeping them locked behind Eddie’s back by securing the buckle. Richie grabs Eddie by the arms and spins him around, Eddie going pliant in his hands, falling back against the counter and looking up at Richie. 

He swallows hard at Eddie’s pretty, doe-eyes turned black, lids bedroom-heavy and his mouth slack, lips bitten pink, letting out soft panting breaths. Then his expression shifts, eyes narrowing, mouth thinning into a line, tension tight in his jaw, but Richie can still see the desire in his eyes under the feigned defiance, in the way he holds his body, arching closer. “You wouldn’t,” he says, his chin jutting up, tendons in his neck on display. “You know you wouldn’t, so quit fucking around and untie me.” 

Richie laughs, but tries to keep it low, menacing, not his normal delighted giggle, holding himself back from pinching Eddie’s cheek in mock play, cooing over how _ cute  _ he is. “I’m not untying you, sweetheart, and I—” he says, running his hands down Eddie’s chest and over his stomach, until his hand cups over cock, feeling the heft and thickness as he squeezes, how hard he’s gotten, forcing a moan out through Eddie’s teeth. “—don’t think you want me to, either.” 

The sound of Eddie hocking back a loogie almost startles him out of the moment, until it slaps against Richie’s cheek, saliva dripping down his jaws and onto his neck, cooling in the air until he wipes it away, drying his hand on his jeans. “Fuck you,” Eddie spits, forceful enough to seem real, but amusement warms Eddie’s gaze, just under the surface. 

Richie stops himself from blurting out,  _ you little dick _ —like some fucked up, knee-jerk, muscle memory retort rising up from his childhood as he bites down on it; instead, he pushes forward, reaching out to grab Eddie by the shoulders and push down until his knees give out, leaving his kneeling on the floor in front of him, glaring up at Richie. “I’m not the one getting fucked tonight,” he says, tugging his shirt over his head.

Richie reaches for the button at the top of his jeans and undoes it while watching Eddie’s eyes follow his zipper as he pulls it down, his jeans shifting to sit low on his hips until he shoves them down, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his underwear, dragging it down with his jeans, stepping out of the pool of denim and cotton at his ankles, before kicking it aside. 

Once free of his jeans and underwear, Richie realizes how hard he’s gotten with his cock springing free, damp at the head and dripping down his shaft—a flush fills his cheeks and flows down to his chest, embarrassment shifting around in his guts. He wraps a hands around his cock, holding himself as if that will make him feel less stupid, standing naked with his dick jutting out as Eddie kneels on the floor in front of him. Eddie hasn’t looked away, his gaze heavy with arousal, licking his lips like he can predict what’s coming, even when Richie isn’t sure what he’s doing, running too far on improv. 

Richie runs his hand down his shaft, then strokes back up again, trying to keep it casual, lazily jacking off as he steps closer to Eddie, until his cock is level with his mouth. “Suck,” he demands, moving his hand from his cock to cup around Eddie’s jaw, thumb running along Eddie’s bottom lip, feeling Eddie’s mouth slacken and fall open. “I want to fuck that sweet mouth of yours before I bend you over.” 

Eddie lets him run the head of his cock over his lips, smearing precome, his eyes fluttering closed as he inhales—then closes his mouth, leaving Richie’s cock rubbing against the seam of his pressed together lips. His eyes flash when he opens them again, and Richie knows that look, the  _ I-fucking-dare-you _ look, chin upturned and Eddie staring down his nose up at Richie. Richie wonders if he can blame that look for setting him off, but he knows that it was all him, slipping too far under the skin of somebody he doesn’t recognize. 

Richie reaches around the back of Eddie’s head and yanks him forward by the hair, Eddie’s mouth gasping open, wide enough that Richie can slide his cock in. He whines when he feels Eddie’s tongue run along the underside of his cock, Eddie’s sudden moan around him sending a shock of pleasure down cock, a shudder rolling through his body as his toes curl against the cool tile. “I told you to suck,” he grinds out, pushing Eddie’s head down on his cock, thrusting against the roof of his mouth, Eddie’s teeth scraping the underside when he hit the back of his throat. “You better get it nice and wet because this is all the prep you’re getting.” 

Richie isn’t sure who moans first when Eddie closes his mouth around his cock and sucks, hollowing out his cheeks, drawing Richie deep into his mouth, like a feedback loop of pleasure. Richie lets go of Eddie’s hair to card his fingers through the strands, stroking his hair back off his brow, petting over his head as Eddie slides his mouth back to the head of Richie’s cock and sucks hard, keeping his eyes cast up and holding Richie’s gaze. Then the suction of his warm mouth is gone, Eddie opening up and almost letting Richie’s cock slip from his mouth. 

“What did I just say?” Richie asks, hand landing on the back of Eddie’s head. 

Eddie whines when Richie grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging his head back, mouth wide enough to thrust back in, hard and quick enough that Eddie gags around him, but keeps his mouth closed, swallowing around the intrusion in his throat, eyes watering at the corners and tears dripping down. Richie comes close to breaking, stopping everything right then and bowing out, stomach swooping low and choking on his heart, thudding in his throat, but Eddie whimpers around him, closing his eyes as he tries to take Richie’s cock deeper. Richie lets go of his hair and brushes his fingers under Eddie’s eyes, brushing away the wetness and cupping his palm around his cheek, feeling himself through the barrier of flesh. 

“That’s better,” Richie says, holding Eddie’s jaw as Eddie drags his mouth up Richie’s cock, but then slides back down, licking around the shaft. “You’re doing so much better. Listen to the noises you’re making around my cock—you’re loving this, aren’t you?” Eddie pulls his mouth off, only to lick around the head of Richie’s cock, swirling his tongue around him, keeping his eyes turned upwards as he laps at Richie. “You put up a good fight, but we both know how much you like sucking my cock, don’t you, sweetheart?” 

Eddie lowers his head back down, taking Richie back into his mouth and working his cock to the back of his throat and swallowing around him in slow and steady increments, until Eddie’s nose is buried in the thatch of dark curls and his lips are wrapped tight around the base of Richie’s cock. “Fuck, you’re so good at this, made for it,” Richie breathes out, unable to stop himself from stroking his fingers through Eddie’s hair, holding his hips still. 

“Such a good little cocksucker.” Richie starts to feel Eddie hum around him, vibrations buzzing up his cock and hitting all his nerve endings, bringing him close as Eddie works his throat around him again, knowing he could make Richie come, just like this, if he wanted. “But that’s enough,” Richie says, waiting for him to draw back, letting Richie’s cock fall from his mouth, but he stays where he is, eyes closed as Richie feels Eddie breathe in the scent of him, rubbing his tongue along the underside of his cock, keeping Richie’s cock buried deep in his throat. 

“I said stop,” Richie says, pushing Eddie back by the shoulder, hard enough that he falls back on his haunches, mouth coming off his cock with a choking, coughing sound. Eddie blinks up at Richie with a hazy expression, licking at his red and swollen lips. Richie has to reach down and squeeze around the base of his cock, willing back the tension close to snapping. The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches, threatening to curl into a grin. 

Richie bends to grab Eddie under the armpits, hoisting him back to his feet, their eyes still locked. “That was almost too fucking easy,” Eddie says, voice strained and gravelly, Richie hating the way his cock twitches at how wrecked his voice sounds. “You almost came down my throat, then it would have been game over.” 

“Too bad for you it didn’t work,” Richie says, twisting Eddie back around by the hips and shoving him down, face first against the counter, pinning him between his shoulder blades; Richie stretches over him, pressing close to his ear. “I’m still going to fuck you, just like I planned and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

Eddie lets a guttural noise, too thick to be a cry, a moan and a whimper blending together, coming out as almost a sob. He tries to buck up against Richie’s hand, but Eddie can’t dislodge him—then Richie hears him whine, gasping out, “fuck,” and rolling his hips back against Richie, making his cock rub across the back of Eddie’s shorts. 

Richie uses his free hand to slip under the waistband of his shorts and finds nothing underneath but skin, his palm cupping the curve of his bare ass and squeezing. “No underwear? You could almost say you were asking for this.” He asks, moving his hand lower, pressing between Eddie’s thighs and dragging his hand up to push between his cheeks, stroking up the center of him until Richie’s fingers catch on the plug—small and compact, utilitarian black, functional over style, everything Eddie wanted when he picked it out. “Oh, what’s this?” 

“Don’t,” Eddie gasps out, hips grinding back when Richie starts to tug on the plug, Richie watching the way his hands clench and unclench, his belt creating bright red creases across Eddie’s arms, the black leather digging into his wrists. “ _ Please _ , don’t.” The  _ please _ hits harder than the  _ don’t _ , Richie knowing what  _ that  _ please sounds like, strung-out and gasping, Eddie wanting more despite the strategically placed  _ don’ts. _

Richie pulls down the waistband of Eddie’s shorts, the elastic catching under his ass until Richie pulls harder and lets them drop to Eddie’s ankles, leaving him naked from the waist down and exposing Eddie to Richie, letting him see how Eddie’s ass spreads around the plug shoved into him, keeping him loose and wet, ready to fuck. “You beg so prettily,” Richie says, his fingers coming to rest on the plug again, tugging it out a little further, then shoving it back in, eliciting a sharp cry that Eddie tries to muffle out against the counter. “But you wanted this, didn’t you? Waited for this. Teasing me until I gave it to you.” 

“No, I don’t, please don’t,  _ please _ ,” Eddie cries out, while he spreads his legs, tilting his hips up, letting his cheek press against the smooth granite. “You don’t really want to do this. Stop and I’ll forget this ever happened.” 

Richie gathers the hem of the t-shirt Eddie must have deliberately took from Richie’s closet—fucking gift wrapping himself in Richie’s clothes—in his hand as he starts to push the well-worn cotton up his waist and under his bound arms, letting it bunch just under Eddie’s shoulders, letting Richie see the thick, jagged scar across the left side of Eddie’s back, twisting against his spine. 

“Too late for that now, sweetheart,” Richie says, then pulls the plug all the way out and sets it down on the counter beside Eddie. Richie slips his fingers into the slick, open space left behind by the plug, Eddie sucking them inside as he clenches around Richie’s fingers as he works them inside, curling forward and making Eddie’s hips jump, forcing a moan from his mouth. “Look at you, all wet and ready, fuck—you really can’t wait for my cock, can you? Practically mewling for it, aren’t you? Don’t worry, I won’t tease you like you teased me.” 

Richie pulls his fingers out of Eddie and watches as his hole clenches around nothing, slick and puffy, already swollen from the plug, and so, so pink.

Richie forces his eyes away, too close to giving into the urge of kissing him there, letting his tongue fuck into Eddie just to get a taste of him. Instead, he grabs Eddie by the hips and lets the head of his cock press into his warmth, so easy to sink into him and Richie does, with slow shallow thrusts until they’re lined up and Richie is buried to the hilt. 

“You feel so fucking good,” Richie says, mouthing at the nape of Eddie’s neck, holding still inside Eddie to make him feel it. “So goddamn sweet around my cock. Should have done this sooner.” 

Eddie lets out a feeble cry, whimpering, trying to make himself fall limp, but Richie can feel the slight shift of his hips. “Just get it over with,” he says, letting out a slow exhale, melting into the counter. 

“No, sweetheart, I am going to make sure you come, too,” Richie says, enjoying the way Eddie stiffens under him while his legs try to spread wider. “I want to feel you come on my cock before I come inside you. I’m going to make sure you  _ like _ this.” 

Richie pushes himself up, arching his back as he drags his cock out of Eddie until only the head is buried inside, then thrusting in hard and fast, hearing the slap of skin on skin, the loud sob that Eddie lets out, his own heart pounding in his ears; he repeats the process, quicker and with more force, his fingers digging into Eddie’s hips, hard enough to bruise. Eddie lets him fuck him at a punishing pace, urging him on with the bow of his spine, the panting cries and low whimpering, the  _ please please please  _ under his breath, his fingernails scratching against Richie’s stomach when he lays himself across Eddie’s back, across his bound arms, to press his mouth against the knotty scarred skin. 

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Richie asks, his voice coming out raw and too rough to his own ears, his thrusts not letting up, keeping a steady pace despite Eddie starting to clamp down around him. Eddie’s body pulls taut as his thighs start to tremble against Richie’s legs, sharp animal sounds coming out of his mouth. “I bet you’re going to come untouched because you love this, tied up and bent over and fucked how a slut like you needs, hard and dirty. Come on, I want to feel it, come for me, sweetheart.” 

It only takes another thrust and Eddie comes apart underneath him, loud cries softening to low, moaning sobs that wrack his body, leaving him shaking under Richie, his release dripping off the cabinet and splashing back onto Richie’s legs. Richie follows Eddie, vision whiting out as he presses his face against Eddie’s spine, letting go as Eddie clenches and flutters around him, growing warmer and wetter inside as Richie spills inside him. 

“Eds,” Richie says, picking himself back up after what feels like a long stretch of time, both of them sacked out against each other until Richie goes soft inside Eddie and his cock slips out, his come painting the insides of Eddie’s thighs. “You okay?” His hands go for his belt wrapped around Eddie’s wrists, unhooking the buckle and unwinding the leather, letting it drop to the floor with a clang as his hands go to rub where the belt left angry, red marks cut into Eddie’s skin. Richie backs up as Eddie picks himself up off the counter and turns around to look at Richie. 

There’s blood on his lip from biting it too hard, dripping down his chin. The shock of red makes Richie want to check him all over, look between his legs and see if he left him torn, see if he was bleeding anywhere else, but then Eddie locks his gaze on Richie’s. Eddie looks up at him with glassy, red-rimmed eyes, dried tear tracks flowing down his cheeks, but he smiles up at Richie, lips pulled back and teeth bared. “I’m fine,” he says, then pushes himself up on the balls of his feet and brushes his mouth over Richie’s, kissing him until Richie draws him closer with his arms wrapped around his waist, licking over Eddie’s split lip. 

“Thank you,” Eddie says, and sets himself back down on his feet, pulling back, but draws Richie down until their foreheads touch. Eddie’s hands are warm, cupping around Richie’s jaw, careful but firm, like he was trying to keep Richie together. “How are you?” 

Richie can’t find the words to answer that question, not with his head spinning and the floating, detached feeling that makes him feel untethered, like his body is not his own, like he can’t fit back under his skin. So he lifts his shoulders, shrugging. 

Eddie’s smile flattens into a frown, brown eyes clearing up and searching for the thing Richie can’t find in his own head. Then his hands drop from Richie’s face as he takes a step back, reaching out for Richie and taking his hand, pressing their palms together and fingers interlocking.

“Come with me,” Eddie says, tugging Richie along; Richie follows. 

  
  


Eddie loves their bathtub—the size and depth just right to fit both Richie and him with ease.

He can’t help but be grateful for it now, Richie standing at the side, half-dazed and close to crashing down as Eddie turns the tap off and pours epsom salt into the the hot water, with a few drops of lavender essential oil. Eddie takes off the t-shirt he stole from Richie, balling it up and tossing it into the hamper, pleased when it lands, slam-dunk. He turns toward Richie and touches his arm first, keeping a hold on him when he startles, looking down at Eddie with a haunted, guilty expression Eddie wants nothing more to wipe away. 

“Come on, old man, into the bath,” Eddie says, pressing his fingers into the soft space behind Richie’s elbow and directing him closer. 

Richie turns before stepping in, laying his hand across Eddie’s cheek, the scarred one, running his thumb down the line where the knife had gone clean through. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, his voice shrunken, small. 

“No, I told you—I’m fine,” Eddie says, shaking his head, then leaning up on his tip-toes to brush his mouth across Richie’s forehead, then dropping down on his heels. “Now get in, I’ll be right behind you.” 

Richie does as he’s told, stepping over the side and into the water hot enough to steam the air, but that is the temperature Richie likes and Eddie can tolerate it for him. Richie gets both feet into the water and starts to sit down, but keeps himself by the end of the tub, curled up in the water and waiting for Eddie to settle down behind him. 

Eddie waits for his feet and ankles to adjust to the temperature before sitting down; he tries not to make a noise when his ass hits the water and the first sting of pain radiates up his spine. He keeps his face trained as he leans back against the tub with his legs open, knees bent. Richie falls back against him without an invitation, letting Eddie’s thighs cradle his hips as he presses his back to Eddie’s chest, his head resting in the crook where Eddie’s shoulder meets his neck. Eddie gathers him up closer, arms wrapped around his ribcage, his cheek pressed to Richie’s temple. 

Eddie lets a few moments pass, listening to the sound of their combined breathing, echoing off the walls of their bathroom, his hand running up from Richie’s stomach to his chest and back again, stroking the warm water across his skin as Eddie starts to feel Richie melt, tension leaving his body. 

“I meant what I said,” Eddie starts, shattering the silence. “Thank you, you were perfect. So good to me.” He nuzzles the side of Richie’s face, leaning down to kiss his shoulder. 

Eddie feels Richie’s hands slide down from his forearms to his wrists, picking them up out of the water and examining them; it’s the first time Eddie has taken the time to look and he gasps at the red marks, purpling around the edges, going to be bruised by morning, the thought making his stomach flutter and his heart pick up pace. “I should have just held you down,” Richie says, drawing one wrist to his mouth, kissing along the marks left by his belt. “I don’t know what I was thinking, we didn’t talk about that, I’m—”

“No,” Eddie says, cutting him off and pressing his mouth against Richie’s ear. “Don’t say that, don’t apologize. I loved it. I said you could do anything and I _ meant _ that.” 

Eddie feels Richie jaw clench and unclench against his cheek, then his lips move to his other wrist, mouthing over the marks he left behind. “I don’t think I like who I become when you say I can do anything,” Richie breathes out, exhaling like he’d been holding his breath all this time. “I didn’t like what came out of my mouth, how I treated you.” 

“Did you want to hurt me?” Eddie asks, letting Richie rub his hands over Eddie’s wrists, letting him cradle them. 

Richie chokes on his own saliva. Eddie can hear the sick gagging noise. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

“I said, did you want to hurt me? Because if you did, then we may need to talk about some things, but if you didn’t, then you don’t have to worry, you did exactly what I asked you to,” Eddie explains, trying to keep his voice even. “I don’t think you wanted to hurt me.” 

Richie lets a few minutes pass, lets Eddie’s words hang in the air as silence presses down on them. He lets go of Eddie’s wrists and sits up, but Eddie follows, pressing his face against Richie’s back, arms wrapped loose around Richie's waist, listening to him breathe. “I liked it,” Richie whispers, starting to tremble. “I didn’t want to like it, I just wanted to give you what you wanted and not get anything out of it, but I liked it. I got _ off  _ on it.” 

Eddie leans down and presses his lips to Richie’s spine, right between his shoulder blades, holding his mouth there until Richie stills. “I told you that was fine,” he starts, running his hands up from Richie’s waist and over his chest, laying his palms over his heart. “We were fucking, how did you expect to give me what I wanted if you weren’t at least a little bit turned on yourself? It doesn’t make you a monster. You didn’t want to hurt me, right?” 

“No,” Richie says, louder than anything else, voice almost at his normal volume. “I never want to hurt you and I didn’t want to make you hurt, but I worry I did anyway.” 

Eddie can’t stop the laugh that cracks out of his throat, sucking in air too fast, leaving him giggling with his face pressed to Richie’s shoulder. “I’m a little sore and I will probably feel this more in the morning, but not any worse than normal when you fuck me.” Eddie shifts himself closer, letting his arms cross over Richie’s chest, squeezing him a little tighter. “You don’t have to worry, but it’s very adorable of you that you are worried—usually that’s my job.”

Eddie wants to try and put words to how now, in the aftermath, he feels settled, relaxation seeping down into his marrow, leaving him pliant and malleable, his heart slowed to a normal pace, chugging along like anyone else’s. But he can’t wrap his tongue around the right way to describe it, how Richie made him feel, helpless and out of control, but taken care of, free in a way he never lets himself be. 

“Sorry,” Richie starts, halting, then exhales out low. “There’s a mess in the kitchen and I left the butt plug on the counter. I got a little carried away. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says, grinning against his back. “I thought we agreed we’d keep it in the bedroom. I appreciate the creativity and I’m not going to say it wasn’t fucking hot, but later I’m going to need to watch as you clean up the mess and disinfect everything.” 

Richie shudders, but nods. He turns his head, just enough for Eddie to press his mouth against Richie’s, kissing him over his shoulder, reaching up to cup his jaw as he opens up to Eddie, letting his tongue slip inside—they don’t kiss long enough, but too long in that angle will leave Richie with a sore neck, so Eddie lets go of his face and buries his face in his neck. 

“Pinky promise,” Richie says, like when they were kids, finding Eddie’s hand under the cooling bath water and hooking their pinkies together. 

**Author's Note:**

> All the love to my beta, [scorpiod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiod/works), and to all the nonnies on FFA that left sweet, supportive comments on the snippets I posted while working on this, it really kept me going.


End file.
